


You Turn Me Into Somebody Loved

by madasthesea



Series: Somebody Loved [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 15:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2472572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madasthesea/pseuds/madasthesea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six times Jemma Simmons kisses Leo Fitz on the cheeck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Turn Me Into Somebody Loved

 

i. 

It’s her birthday and Fitz is nervous. They've only known each other for four months, but he’d never felt such a complete sense of easiness and understanding than he did when he was around Jemma Simmons. She was having a small party at a local pub with a small group of fellow students from the Academy. He didn't know anyone but her.

He spends the whole night in the corner of the booth nursing the same pint. He listens to the happy conversation floating around him, nodding and smiling when Jemma looked over at him, her face flushed with the copious amount of alcohol that was being bought for her. At some point in the night, she ends up next to him, pressed against his side in the too small booth. She stays there until the party disperses.

He helps her home that night, walking her to her apartment with a light hand on the small of her back to keep her walking straight. She smiles at him when they reach her door as a thank you and turns to go inside.

“Simmons,” he says quickly, and she turns back to him, eyes focusing on him with surprising clarity. He pulls out the little box that had been weighing his jacket pocket all night.

“I never gave you your birthday present,” he mutters, nervously toying with the ribbon before handing it to her, not looking up. He had spent much longer working on it than he was willing to admit, and had almost been late tonight because he still hadn't been happy with it.

She pulls on the bow and opens the lid, before removing a carefully formed metal globe. She looked up at him, a small smile appearing on her face.

“It’s a star projector. Solar powered. The star placements are as accurate as I could make them. And it has a timed weight system that allows it to-“

“To mimic the orbit and rotation of the planet,” she finishes. He nods, trying not to smile at the way that she finished his sentence. She always did that. He’s about to ask her if she likes it when she surges forward and presses her mouth against his cheek.

He stands outside her door for at least five minutes before rousing himself enough to walk home.  

(The stars are hard to see from the window of an airplane. Whenever they feel too overwhelmed, they huddle in Simmons’ bunk and trace constellations on her ceiling.)

 

 

ii.

Simmons throws her arms around him the second they see each other after the ceremony. It makes him lose his balance and they stumble together for a second before he steadies, returning the embrace. The firm cardboard squares of their caps are in the way and she impatiently reaches up and pulls hers off, then his. He laughs at her exuberance, pouring out of her in a way that usually only happens in the lab when they've discovered something new.

She pulls back when someone calls her name, and they both turn to see her parents wading through the sea of black gowns. Her father hands her a large bouquet of flowers and Fitz watches, smiling a little sadly, as Jemma embraces her parents. His mother hadn't been able to come to the graduation because of her poor health. But then Mr. and Mrs. Simmons are hugging him too and insisting on pictures and then dinner.

Jemma puts an arm around his waist, smiling through picture after picture. And then, after her mother has said “Ok, last one!” for at least the tenth time, she pushes herself onto her toes and kisses his cheek, just as the flash goes off.

He can’t tell if he’s blushing, but he suddenly feels warm all over.

The picture is the background of his laptop even after they go into the field.

(Skye coos every time she sees it. Ward makes a face. Jemma smiles at him. So he keeps it.)

 

 

iii. 

His father passes away their second year at Sci-Ops. When he hangs up from the phone call, he throws the phone against the wall and proceeds to systematically break every dish they have. Simmons comes home to find him sitting on the floor of the tiny kitchen, surrounded by shards of glass and stoneware, covered in tiny cuts. He’s been crying.

She sweeps, twice. He doesn't move. She comes and sits by him, and as soon as he can feel the heat of her, he crumples into her side. He talks, for a long time, and he doesn't think she can understand him, his accent thick and muffled against her stomach, but she listens anyway. He stops when he’s hoarse and the tears have stopped dripping onto Jemma’s shirt. The hand running through his hair ceases when his voice does.

She sits him up against a cupboard and silently begins cleaning his cuts. When the last of the blood is gone from his face, she gently kisses his cheek, then his forehead.

They eat cold leftovers on paper plates and fall asleep on the couch. They buy new dishes the next day.

(They never mention that night again.)

 

 

iv. 

Their entire apartment is packed into suitcases. Most of the furniture had been moved out that day, so Fitz and Simmons sit on the floor in their empty living room watching old Mythbusters episodes on his computer, Thai food containers being passed between them. It’s late, and they should be asleep, but they’re both too anxious to go to bed.  It’s almost 1 in the morning and Jemma is slumped against his shoulder, drifting to sleep, when Fitz’s entire body tenses.

She sits up, looking at him in concern, but his eyes are fixed on the computer screen. She turns to look and sees that they’re testing something about guns, explaining the damage a bullet can do when it hits certain parts of the body.

“Oh, Fitz,” she sighs. “You know all this. You design guns. Why-“

“I know what they do, and so do you,” he snaps. “So I don’t understand why you want so desperately to go into the field.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so against it!” She leans forward and presses pause on the episode. He tears his gaze away from the screen and looks at her in disbelief.

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe because I’m not too fond of a lead ball ripping into my skin at over two thousand miles an hour!”

“Fitz, we've had this discussion a million times already. We’re going to be staying on the plane; people aren't going to be shooting at us!” They’re talking over each other, getting progressively louder as if it will prove them more right.

“Simmons,” he sighs, but she interrupts.

“I know you’re scared.” He huffs a little, but she ploughs on. “But it’s going to be an amazing experience. And we’re going to be just fine. We won’t get shot.”

He breathes out deeply, then nods a little. She smiles at him before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I’m going to bed. Night.” He mutters a small goodnight before resuming the show. He still can’t sleep.

(She was only partly right. They didn't get shot.)

 

 

v. 

Even when she’s sitting on his bunk, he’s afraid to blink for fear she’ll disappear. He’s stammering an excuse for not flinging himself into the air after her. He clutches harder at his pillow to keep himself from pulling her into his arms instead.

“You’re the hero,” she says. He can’t look at her.

She kisses his cheek, before standing and leaving. He’s used to the flood of warmth that spreads through him whenever Jemma kisses his cheek. He’s not used the fluttering nerves in his stomach.

He loosens his collar a little.

(That was the moment, he thinks later, that he understood.)

 

 

vi. 

Numbers don’t lie. There’s only enough air for one breath. They’re in a storage container at the bottom of the ocean and he’s going to save her life.

“Let me show you.”

He thinks that it should make him happy that Jemma is so distraught at the idea of losing him, but he’s in too much of a hurry. His head is too fuzzy. He lets her cling to him, smashing his broken arm between them. She’s whimpering her refusal, sobbing. He thinks vaguely that it’ll use more oxygen, but he doesn't stop her.

“Jemma,” he whispers. She shakes her head against his shoulder before she begins frantically peppering kisses all over his face. She presses one hard against his temple, feeling his strong pulse against her mouth. He closes his eyes and lets himself savor this single, final moment, relish in the relief that she was going to live.

He smiles at her. He hits the button and the last thing he hears over the rush of water is her scream.

(He doesn't expect to hear anything ever again.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Somebody Loved" by The Weepies. Hope you liked it!


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